


Flavusater

by flowersaretarts



Series: Helianthus [1]
Category: Vurt
Genre: M/M, quarteron, shadowman - Freeform, vurt - Freeform, vurtboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 02:56:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6266743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersaretarts/pseuds/flowersaretarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody's perfect, nobody's Pure.<br/>Yellow and Black are the colours of our lives.<br/>Cas is a Vurt-infected boy, but he is afraid to share this secret with his soulmate Jonathan, the "impossible" genetic mix of Man and Shadow.<br/>The treasure of friendship or the world of infinite adventures and pleasure, can he keep them both?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flavusater

   There he is, in the lantern light, whining in his dream. His strong legs move as he chases his prey, and he will probably get it, not a hard task for a four-headed dog. Jonah insisted on sending him into a dog vurt to keep him from messing around the flat.

But I just knew he was afraid. Jealous of this higher-level being, who pissed on the couch and drooled all over the tablecloth, but could get into your head and even make you feel like a dog, literally.

So did I. My poor shadow quarteron, I am so sorry.

 

[Later that evening]

 

 We were walking through the park, Cerbie lost his mind over the very smell of wet grass. The city night felt as thick as tar, and we were cutting through it, pushing forward with a great effort.

 The dog didn’t seem to have any problems, though. He snapped his sharp metal fangs at some ghost moths, the second right head barking loudly as the left one tried to drag the whole body along.

 This was the very edge of the park, where you can’t tell if it was already the Frontier. There was a signal tower with a Roboshadcop beaming from the top, but no way the sucker could spot us.

 Taking our robovurtdog out was a tricky game. He wasn’t exactly legal, 

a swapback for a middle aged mom of four on her one-way trip to the Blue Lane (a desperate housewives harbor and shelter). One morning the boys just found their neighbour’s front door open, an empty flat and a pricey blue feather with pink spots and dust round its edges. It had just started turning creamy; Peter could feel the traces of Vurt presence, it couldn’t be more than thirty minutes since the feather touched the woman’s lips.

Then a creature ran from under the dinner table, making Jonathan utter the sound Peter would never let him forget. Yelling his head off, he climbed on the chair and waved his long arms, as if the dog was about to attack him from the air. In his defense, it was a rather unusual animal.

 “Stop screaming, Stroke, it’s just a dog.”

“Just a dog? The fuckling has four heads!”

“He’s wagging his tail, look”

 Cas knelt down and let the creature sniff his hand. It was followed by licking and tiny whining noise one of the heads was making.

 “He’s got blood on his… Shit, his ear is torn! Who would do that? Did you get into a fight, mate?”

 He went silent. Three pairs of yellow eyes looked at him sadly.

 “What’s with you two?” – asked Jona, who finally had both his feet on the floor. – “Cas?”

 Peter rose, pretty serious.

 “He’s an illegal thing. He ran off, got away from some facility.”

 “What? He’s got a tag or something?”

 “He’s a robovurt, Stroke. He showed me.”

 Jonathan winced. He knew the way the Vurt beings “show” things, and he was not pleased.

Neither he was happy to see Casriel being so cool about the encounter. As if he was trying to prove himself or something. Or how easily he identified the beast. The Pure can’t be so finely tuned, Whitehall’s thin Shadow was not able to go deep into his friend’s mind. He suspected some tricky Robo fusion but had no proofs.

The cerberus followed them out of the flat, the boys simply couldn’t leave him alone. Hobart knows what would the Swap Control do to him, no sugar bones, that’s for sure.

Halfway to the stairs, Peter said: “We should probably leave a note to Mr. Gabbs and kids.”

“They’d find the feather. Can’t they put the clues together and figure out where mommy has gone?”

“Not Mr. Gabbs, no. He’s a thick bastard, no? Get the fucking dog out, quickly! Hold him! Someone’s coming up!”

 And so the creature of vurtflesh and blood, plastic bones and dog manners found its new home. Luckily it was practically a lapdog, low-maintenance sort. Whitehall complained about having to buy an extra saveloy each time they had a takeaway until Cas bollocked him into making friends with a local butcher.

 “When’s the train leaving?” asked Jona, shaking the water drops off his coat.

“Tomorrow, 11 sharp. I double checked. Shouldn’t be any mess. My skins did it twice and got away, clean as a whistle.”

“And the Fridge?”

“Got it.” Casriel took a dodgy little feather out of his inner pocket, singing “With gold and silver, I will transport her…”, which made his friend wince. “This gonna keep him in for a good night sleep. “

Whitehall looked skeptical.

“We should have sold the bastard. I’m telling you, we’ll be fucked with him on board. No leave. No leave. Go with. Go jump. No leave dog. Fuck! Get out! Get out of me, you lump of vurt shit!”

Cerbie backed off, his ears pressed down. Looking as apologetic as a dog can be.

 “Chill, man. He loves you.”

 Peter crouched and stroked the dog’s velvet heads with both hands.

His eyes shimmered yellow for a second and the dog responded, whining quietly.

 “That’s a good boy. No head.”

The dog turned his sad faces to Whitehall. Tail between his legs, he walked up to him and stood up, his paws all over Jona.

“Alright, just get the fuck off me. Look, I am petting you, alright? No dirty paws on the coat!”


End file.
